


You Make Me Feel Like I Am Home Again

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, Bisexual Character, Conversations, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 04:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tipsy Moran makes an admission relating to the professor's sexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Make Me Feel Like I Am Home Again

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the prompt "I'm Sexual - But I'm Ace for You" from a list of asexuality fic prompts. Yes the title is from The Cure's Lovesong.

   “You know, Professor, if you couldn’t…” Moran hesitates and clears his throat. “I mean if you could never…”

    Moriarty raises an eyebrow at his companion over the top of his newspaper. “Could never what?”

    Moran turns sideways on the sofa as much as he is able to without falling off and leans forward a little, clasping his hands together in his lap. “If you never wanted to be, you know, _physically intimate_ with me…”

    “We have already been ‘physically intimate’, many times,” Moriarty points out, closing his paper. Evidently Moran is in that state where drink has begun to loosen his tongue and free some of his inhibitions, and it seems he has something on his mind at present. The professor senses that he will not be permitted to continue reading the news in peace until this matter is addressed.

    “Yes but, I mean…” Moran scratches idly at his beard as he ponders the direction this conversation is taking. “If you didn’t want to-”

    “But I do, from time to time, so it hardly matters that-”

    “It does matter!” Moran cries. “It matters because I want you to know… I want you to know that… that I’d never do something to make you unhappy, Professor, and I’m being hypothetical, is all. I mean, if you changed your mind some day about us fu- about us lying together, or if things’d been different and you’d never wanted to… to lie with me…”

    The professor cannot suppress a small smile at his lover’s delicacy, and at Moran’s concern for him.

    “ _That’s_ what I mean,” Moran continues. “If for some reason you didn’t want to lie with me then I’d be all right with that, I’d never ask you for it, and it wouldn’t matter to me.”

    “Would it not?”

    Moran chuckles. “Well, no,” he admits. “I mean, yes, I’d miss the sex but it ain’t as if…” He drops his gaze. “As if…”

    Moriarty dips his head in order to try to catch Moran’s eye once again. “As if the sex is the most important thing to you?”

    “Yes!” Moran looks up sharply, realises the professor is watching him intently now and blushes deeply. “That is, no, it’s not, it never has been, not with you, Professor. I mean… it _is_ important, because it _is_ with you, so long as you want it. But with you it’s… it’s like things are different, to how it was with all the others.” He coughs slightly again, wondering suddenly if he has said too much, even as he struggles to express in mere words the sense of security he feels with the professor, and the sense too of being cared for and cherished and rewarded in countless ways, many of which have nothing at all to do with sex. “I mean god, sir, you excite me _so much_ , more than anyone else ever has, even Kitty.” A sly smirk flits across his features as he recollects some of the things he got up to in the past with Miss Winter. “But with you… with you it’s like… I’m _home_.”

    Moriarty sets the paper aside entirely and shuffles sideways across the sofa, closer to his lover. “Sebastian.”

    “I’m babbling, ain’t I?” Moran smiles grimly before pressing his face against Moriarty’s shoulder and groaning. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m sorry, I’ve had too much to drink, I’m sorry James,” he mumbles into the professor’s waistcoat.

    “Shhh.” Moriarty gently presses Moran back so that they are able to look each other in the eye once more. “Sebastian, my boy.” Putting his hand to Moran’s cheek, cupping his face, gently rubbing his thumb over Moran’s cheekbone, he relishes how Moran nuzzles into the touch. “I value your candour with me, pet, and I appreciate the sentiment behind your words, even though I assure you it is needless for you to concern yourself with such matters for I enjoy our acts of _physical intimacy_ immensely. Furthermore…” Now it is his turn to pause and to clear his throat. “Furthermore, I think that I do understand what you mean by ‘home’.”

    “You do?”

    “I do.” Moriarty smiles before leaning forward to gently kiss Moran upon the forehead. He notices how Moran closes his eyes and how his mouth quirks into a grin as he feels the professor’s lips brush across his skin. “Now, come here.” He lets Moran lean against him, settling into the crook of Moriarty’s left arm. He resumes his perusal of the paper using just the one free hand now to turn the pages and to fold it up to read a section of particular interest, keeping his left arm clasped around Moran. The colonel snuggles into the embrace, pleasantly warm and solid against Moriarty’s side, feeling valued, safe. _Home._


End file.
